Golden Year
by CaptainPop
Summary: Two people at 70 years of age and the final performance for one. For all the Seddie Fans.


Golden Year

The sun was a ball of yellow fire hovering above the horizon on the Pacific Ocean as frothy white waves rolled and crashed against the pebbled beach. Dark shadows of distant clouds pocked the amber sky like misshaped ink blots. The gentle wind carried in over the blue-black rippling salt water was still slightly warm. A path of yellow-orange stretched across the ocean, over the beach to the wooden deck of the small beach house where the sand met the rising land of grass and weed.

Sitting on the elevated deck, at the back of the small beach house, they both watched the remains of the day fading on the other side of the world.

Each sat in their cushioned patio lounger, a simple drink table between them with a pitcher of lemonade and two ice filled glasses sweaty with condensation. Their arms stretched across the small divide and were bridged by their intertwined fingers.

Neither had spoken for what had seemed like an eternity.

"I've always hated the water," she began, the sound soft and aging, the whisper of the years having tainted her once powerful and energetic voice.

He slowly turned his head to look at her. He smiled. He still saw the twenty year old beauty that had taken his heart so many years ago.

"You were always _afraid_ of the water," he corrected.

Her elderly shoulders made a slow shrug. "Same thing."

He held her hand a little tighter to say that he disagreed but didn't care because he still loved her. In all these years, through everything, to this very day and beyond, he loved her above all else.

"I saw an old movie of mine yesterday…"

_It was three weeks ago,_ he said to her in his mind with sadness. "Really?" he said aloud. "Which one?"

She was quiet a moment as she tried to remember the name. After a few moments of silence, she gave up, accepting that the name of the movie would continue to elude her. "It was the one with that internet guy. The funny one."

He smiled. He remembered it well.

"I wonder what ever happened to him?" she wondered.

He studied her for a short time until she slowly turned to look at him with faded grey-green eyes that had a faint spark of life still within. She was smiling a sad little smile.

The internet guy had become a man many years ago and had died in a tragic car accident shortly after that. They both had attended his funeral. She had sworn off of driving for seven months. The family had done a lot of walking back then. They walked everywhere, until that one day when she had simply said: Okay, enough of this nonsense. The next day, they had bought another car. That was the way she rolled.

"Good movie?" he asked.

She nodded. "Not my best. But, it was fun." She seemed lost for a moment in the fog of the past before she returned to him. "I've done a lot of video."

"And music," he added.

She chuckled. "Yeah. I liked the music." She looked out at the sea again. "I always hated the water…"

He just let it go. "And yet you insisted we buy this house on the water."

She looked back at him. "You liked the view. I bought it for you." She frowned a bit. "We have had a good life?"

"Is that a question or a statement?" he quipped.

"Have you been happy?" she pressed.

"Always, Jayfae. Always." He got lost in her eyes and had to turn away before his own teared. "What about you?"

She sighed. "I lived my dream."

A silence fell between them again. But it was comfortable like old leather. The sun dipped until it touched the horizon.

"What about your dream?" she asked, a hint of concern in her old voice.

He smiled. "I have my dream."

She studied the profile of his face. "What was it?"

"What is it, you mean…" He turned again to face her, a smile crinkling his wrinkled cheeks. "This. You. Here."

She frowned. "Sitting on a deck, watching the sun go down while we age?"

He chuckled. "Yeah, something like that."

"You dream big…" she joked. A sad look crossed her face. "How long…?"

"Fifty years, Jay. Longer if you include friendship."

She grunted. "Where did the time go? When did I wake up to be seventy-one?"

He smiled. "This morning."

She glared a fake glare. "Shut up…fool. Old fool with the white hair." She sighed. "I've been terrible to you."

"How?"

"Our life," she said, as if this explained everything.

"Sorry?"

"I've missed so much. Holidays, vacations, birthdays…anniversaries. How you all must have hated me for it…" her voice drifted away in memory.

"Never. Not a once." His voice, though old was firm. "We all understood. It's one of the reasons I love you, Jayfae. You did what you were born to do. You performed."

"I did what I wanted to do…but -"

"What you _needed_ to do," he corrected quickly. "Others _wanted_ to perform. You _needed_ to do it. It was like breathing to you. Without it, you would have died. I knew that. So did the kids. We didn't mind."

She looked away to the darkening sea. "But I missed so much…"

"Missed? Missed what? Vacations? We had those. Occasions? We celebrated those. We waited until you were with us. People celebrate their birthdays on the weekends, the hold anniversary parties on nights when they don't have to get up the next day. Heck, even Christmas used to be in July at one point. I think. Originally…"

"And you were sounding so confident until that last bit," she grinned, looking back at him.

"We waited for when you could join us."

"You gave me that. What did I give you back?"

"A family. Children. A home. Love. My dream. When you were with us, you were with _us_. That's what was important. Your being away on set or on tour just made the times together that much sweeter."

She twisted her lips in thought. "Gerald wants me to tour again."

"Umhmm," he murmured.

"An eight month tour of seniors homes. Doing the old songs. Nothing major, but its still performing for my fans. You know how I like that."

He frowned as a darkness seized his heart. "Yeah… When do you leave?"

Another span of silence divided them before she spoke.

"Tomorrow," she had said at last. And another pause filled the air. "There were other men…" she said quietly, sadly, not quite ashamed but not proud of the fact. It was just a statement of history. She felt that it was time to say it. Repentance.

He let a slow smile spread again. "I know."

She shot him a lot of surprise. "You never said…"

"What was to say? You were away for long times. You needed a surrogate. But, you always returned to the real thing. Me. Other men may have had your body, but I had your heart." He sighed. "Artists are just different people, you know?"

She eyed him a long time after that.

She struggled to her feet, swayed a moment and caught her balance before he could shoot up and rescue her. She held out her hand to him. "The sun's going to bed and so should we, don't you think?"

He looked up at her, smiled again at the small bodied twenty year old spitfire he had fallen for years before. He took her hand and accepted the help to his feet. With his arm snaked around her waist, he guided her through the patio doors and into the small beach house overlooking the Pacific Ocean that she hated so much but bought and lived her life in just for him.

And the sun vanished below the waves.

* * *

"Here, Dad," the mid-forties woman with the long blond curls said to him, holding out a steaming cup of tea. "Drink this."

He accepted the mug from his youngest daughter and sipped at the herbal beverage. It didn't help much, but then nothing really would right at that moment.

He stared out at the afternoon sea roiling into the shore.

"They're almost done in there…" she added, leaning her back against the rail to face her father who was seated in his favorite chair next to one she remembered being empty a lot in her childhood.

They stayed that way for several long minutes. Silently lost in their own thoughts.

A man appeared from inside the house. He wore a uniform. He handed a clipboard to the woman's father in the chair.

"We're finished, now, Mr. Kress. Can you sign this for me please." He looked uncomfortable doing this part of his job. "It's for the body. We have to take her in for autopsy. I know it was natural causes, but we still have to…"

"I understand," Nathan said, as he signed the forms. "I'll have the funeral director contact you later with the arrangements."

The uniform shifted a bit and took back the clipboard. "I'm sorry for your loss, sir. She was a fine woman. My mom watched all of her shows when she was young. Was a big fan of Jennette's…I mean, Mrs. Kress…"

Nathan smiled up at the man. "Jennette. Her fans called her Jennette. Or J-Mac. It's okay. Thank you."

The uniform gave a thin smile, nodded with a glance to the daughter and left.

Nathan's daughter knelt beside her father and put her head in his lap. He instinctively began to run his hands through her long hair.

"Did you know…?"

"Yeah. For a while now. She never knew that I knew," he answered her unasked question. "Her doctor told me yesterday that…well…he told me when…"

Her hands picked at his knee. "Why didn't you tell us?"

"Because last night, her final performance, was just for me."

"Did she…did she go…" The tears were in her voice.

Nathan cast his eyes out to sea. "She went in her sleep. While I held her. I waited to make the call until the sun came up so we could have our last dawn together."

His daughter cried in his lap.

"Shhh…" he soothed. "Your mother's up there, on the big stage, performing for the big man. You'll see her every morning when the sun comes up. She's my angel of the morning…"

His daughter stopped sobbing to look up at her father. She gave a snort of relief when she laughed. "Dad, that's really corny."

Nathan smiled and looked into her young face. "Did you ever know that your mother hated the water?"

**This one is for the Seddie Faction. I hope you liked it.**


End file.
